


Nighttime

by Nezclaw, Rochelle_Templer



Series: Monkees Rising [5]
Category: Flight Rising, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Gen, Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-10 01:16:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12288153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nezclaw/pseuds/Nezclaw, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Templer/pseuds/Rochelle_Templer
Summary: What do you do when one of your group is semi-nocturnal? Andloud?





	1. Chapter 1

A fireball shoots across the room, followed by an irate "Go to BED, Micky!" The fireball illuminates a large shape standing in the way before it sputters out. 

"Davy!" the shape snaps as its eyes flash amber in the light of the fire. "I told you no fireballs after 9!"

"But Mike...someone's got to make him stop it..." Davy whined.

"I'll take care of it, Davy. Go back to bed."

Davy grumbles, but still complies. Mike turns his attention to his noodly best friend with an exasperated sigh.

"Micky... It's two in the morning. Why are you playing drums."

"Oh I came up with the great drum solo while I was sleeping and you know, you gotta get to this stuff right when you think of it. So I did that and then I thought of this groovy way we could change the beat to one of our other songs...." he babbled on as he flew in loops over the drumkit, twisting around, sometimes even rolling upside down as he gestured with all six wings and his tail.

"Mick..."

"Micky..."

"MICKY!" 

"Huh?!" Micky freezes in place. It’s a reflex from before when they were human, Mike would yell at him to get his attention and Micky would freeze. Unfortunately, this reflex doesn’t serve him well as a dragon. He falls onto his kit and knocks it over with a crash. Mike winces.

"It's two am! We're trying to sleep!"

"But...but I'm not sleepy at all, Mike," Micky whines.

"The rest of us are. You know Davy gets grumpy if he doesn't get enough rest." And when Davy got grumpy, his control over his magic frayed along with his temper. Truth be told, Mike wasn't sleepy either.

"Yeah, I know... But...what am I supposed to do, Mike? I can't sleep. Not now...." His eyes shone in the faint light as he gazed pleadingly up at Mike from where he was tangled up in his drum kit. Mike smiled very slightly as he carefully extracted Micky from the pile with a minimum of commotion.

"Don't you have something to do that's a little quieter?" he asked as Micky leapt into the air again to circle around his head.

"Oh..you mean like magic? I could try out some new spells I learned..."

"As long as you do it outside..."

"Oh sure, lemme just grab my spellbook." Micky concentrated, and a pinkish aura surrounded a book on one of the tables which floated across the room. "See ya!" He zoomed out of the room to go play with magic. Mike hoped he wouldn't go too far. In fact he should probably go with him.


	2. Chapter 2

Micky hovered over the roof of the pad. He opened his book, murmuring a quick cantrip to illuminate the text. He might have good night-vision, but it was kinda useless for reading. The music was still playing in his head, and he ended up singing the spell. The text brightened way more than he had planned. Micky yelped.

A snarl, and something lands nearby.

"Mike? What are you doing?" The Wildclaw stops its prowling around and looks at the spiral.

"I heard you cry out... thought you'd been attacked or somethin'..."

"Aw babe, it's nothing like that. I just had a spell do something weird." Micky looped his tail around a branch and dangled in front of Mike. "I thought you were going to bed?"

"Couldn't sleep. Even without your carrying on." He folded his wings down and straightened a few feathers self-consciously.

"Are you feeling alright Mike?" Micky asked, craning his head to look at Mike upside down.

"What do you mean?"

"Well... I've only seen you sleep like... once. And I don't think it's because you sleep at the same time I do. You know how I sleep."

Mike shrugged his wings. "I'm fine Mick. I'm just not tired." He stared off into the distance as someone flew through the trees. He wanted to sleep. The long nights were dull when it's just you, alone, with nothing to do...

"Mike?" Mike had gone oddly still. "Miiiii-iiiike.... you're doing that thing again..." Micky said in a sing-song voice as he waved a wing in front of Mike's eyes. No response. 

"Come on babe don't zone out on me now! Miii-iiiike... Are you sure you don't need sleep?" His eyes were still open, if a bit glazed. Micky squinted at him. 

There appeared to be a faint aura around Mike. Brown in color, the same color as his eyes. Was Mike using magic? Micky swung himself closer, nudging him with his head. 

His feathers were hard. Nor did he appear to be breathing. Micky snaked down over and across Mike. Was this the same thing that had affected Mike the first night here? 

"Mike?" Micky asked, trying to keep himself composed. "C'mon babe..." He tapped on Mike's hardened feathers with a claw. He still felt warm, at least. "Miiike..." How could he get his attention? 

He draped himself over Mike's muzzle. Mike's eyes were open, so hopefully he could see? A few moments later he felt a faint stirring against his coils. 

"Wwwhaaat.... aarrre.... yyoouuu... dooooinng.... thherre...?" 

"Mike!?!" Micky gasped out. Mike's voice sounded really weird. 

"Whyy... arre.... youu.. oonn.. myy... faace?" Micky slithered off quickly, resuming his normal scarf duties.

"Mike you were doing that thing again!"

"Whhat thhing? Miicky? What are you talking about?" Mike's voice had returned to normal. Micky sighed in relief and shoved his face into Mike's feathers. 

"You got all still again babe."

"I was just thinkin'."

"No not like that... I mean you were... Mike, I think you were using your magic to turn yourself to stone." Mike stares at him.

"You're making that up."

"No, seriously! Your feathers felt like they were made of stone. And you had this sorta glow? although you weren't really glowing, it was more of a sorta fuzzy outline, but it was the same color as your eyes. I think it was your magic babe, because magic equals eye color, right? that's what they said and it makes sense because your magic is Earth and I swear you're slowing yourself down as well when you do it it's like that first night remember you said we were all tearing around at lightspeed and then zelioth said that he couldn't detect any foreign magic and that's because it was your own magic and again that makes sense because earth lasts right statues last way longer than flesh and living things and also your voice sounded like what you get when you play a record slowly all low pitched and such y'dig and-" He breaks off his explanation as he gasps for breath.

"You can see magic? Did you see the same aura the first time?"

"No... I didn't see it... but I'm sure I saw it around you this time."

Before Mike could get a chance to argue, the sound of rain filled the air. He shuddered, his feathers fluffing up in response to the unwelcome moisture, much to Micky's delight. As the warm rain hit his feathers, he hissed in discomfort, grabbed Micky's spellbook, and ran inside before the rain got any worse.

"Hey, come on Mike, it's just a little rain," Micky protested. Mike shook his head.

"Don' like it," he mumbled. 

"Yeah, I can see that... but..."

"But what, Micky?"

"I mean, I'd get it if it was like, pouring down, but you go inside even if it's just a bit drippy out."

"I just don't like getting wet, ok? Davy does it to, an' I don't see you gettin' on his case about it."

"Yeah, but Davy's a fire dragon. It makes sense that he wouldn't like water. Unless..." Micky snapped his claws as something occurred to him. "Erosion!"

"Huh?" 

"You know, how water wears down stone over time? I bet that's what it is!"

That did seem reasonable.

"It's a damn nuisance is what it is," Mike muttered crossly, his feathers fluffing up further. "It's always rainin' in these parts."

"Well... maybe I could make you an umbrella charm! Something to keep the water off you when you go outside!"

Mike drew his head closer to his body, his neck disappearing into his feathers. He shook his head. He didn't need to be coddled. He'd just tough it out. He'd be fine.


End file.
